


Complimentary Soap

by Pepsi (Pepsiiii)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Hotels, Model Haiba Lev, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/pseuds/Pepsi
Summary: Now, Lev has had a mixed bag of a life (lots pain- thanks Nekoma boy’s volleyball team and absent parents- lots of happiness, thanks Inuoka and his still there family, to name some basic ones) but he could say with certainty that his best memories came from when he stayed in hotel rooms. The first big one is that of the first hotel room he stayed in.OR; Lev Haiba is a MODEL
Relationships: Haiba Lev & Nekoma Volleyball Club
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	Complimentary Soap

**Author's Note:**

> LORD. 
> 
> THIS IS THE LONGEST ONESHOT IVE EVER MADE AND IM SO PROUD OF IT SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IN THE COMMENTS. I AM SOOO PROUD OF MYSELF
> 
> **ALSOOOOOOOOOO CANONNNNNNNNNN MODELLLLLL LEVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV!!!!!! NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!! PEPSI NATION WE WON**
> 
> before reading, let it be known I will drag Nekoma any day of the fucking week and I love every word of this. If ur mad, tell me. make my night. <33

Lev traveled a lot. 

He was a model and as such he was expected to go wherever the next extravagant photoshoot was; the next deep-dive interview; the next flashy paparazzi swarm swallowing him whole; the next major life-changing gig; the next hoop he has to jump through. 

He, for all his talking and question asking during his everyday life, among the hustle and bustle (asking his PR manager if him being caught  _ again _ in the arms of a new man was enough to tank his career in more than  _ just _ a week), the quiet moments of the in-between (rambling on and on about the way makeup feels on his skin as the new makeup artist applies another layer of bright red lipstick-  _ Gucci and their red lips-  _ and questioning why they chose  _ this  _ shade of lipstick and not  _ that  _ one, the crimson-red one with the bits of glitter in it, not the cherry red with the glossy shine) Lev was surprisingly docile when it came to following orders. He might pretend like he doesn’t enjoy it, or maybe he does hate it with his entire heart—but no matter what he nodded, packed his bags, put on his favorite pair of kitty socks. He went where they said without much issue.

Luckily for Lev (and this may feed into why he’s so obedient with traveling orders) he fucking  _ adores _ traveling. He loves everything. The planes, the airports, and lounges waiting in line to be seated, first-class flights or private jets waiting  _ just  _ for him. Airport food, flight attendants smiling at him and offering him blankets and complimentary earphones, champagne popped 38,000 feet in the air, Bluetooth headphones turned on as the ground disappeared. _ It’s heaven _ . His personal heaven.

But the  _ best  _ part— is the  _ hotel stay. _

So Lev grew up in the prefecture of  _ middle-of-fuck-nowhere, _ Japan until the ripe age of 15 years old. His family (consisting of his loving aunt, his loving sister, his giant loving dog, and himself, who is loving) moved from out of their  _ middle-of-fuck-nowhere _ prefecture and into the big city of Tokyo, Japan. It was a big life-changing move for the whole family (but mainly Lev) and during that moving period, Lev got to live in a hotel for a little over 2 weeks. 

Now, Lev has had a mixed bag of a life (lots pain- thanks Nekoma boy’s volleyball team and absent parents- lots of happiness, thanks Inuoka and his still there family, to name some basic ones) but he could say with certainty that his best memories came from when he stayed in hotel rooms. The first big one is that of the  _ first  _ hotel room he stayed in. 

One has to understand that Lev didn’t just  _ stay  _ in hotels. He was born in his aunt’s house (his mother being so very pregnant that she walked inside the home one day and the water broke instantly, almost as if the baby inside was demanding to see the world for all it was, that of which was little more than a traditional living room set up in a backwater home) and never left it (or the surrounding towns) before. He was under the impression he was going to live and die in that house, surrounded by a hodgepodge of cultures (a mix between his mother’s side, Russian, and father’s side, Japanese, a cruel joke _ really _ — seeing how neither of them were actually  _ there)  _ with little to amuse him other than his own imagination, phone and the cats outside lazily strolling wherever they pleased. 

(In his old house Lev could be anywhere- and he means  _ anywhere-  _ and always see some sort of cat around. Once he was in his bathroom taking a bath on a particularly stuffy day, a terrible heat engulfing everything and all when he leaned his head back and was met with the soft fur of a cat on his neck. The window was open, yes, but it was one of those high ceilings that no four-legged creature could ever reach. Except for maybe squirrels or rats… or cats, if his memory proves true. He just sat there, laying his head back and enjoying the water as the cat purred and meowed from time to time. Eventually, he caved and tried to pet the cat and got dirty hair on him as a result. Another bath was needed.)

Lev learned, in his first 2 weeks in Tokyo, that city cats were far less trusting than that of country cats. The amount of cat-related injuries was obscene and the family probably dropped 40,000 yen per year on bandaids alone (“A  _ completely and utterly exaggerated price, idiot boy.” And “Nothing near the actual amount Lyovochka.”  _ said his sister and aunt but Lev was the money expert of his own mind and as such he was right when he _ really _ thought about it). But that was a different story for a different day.

So, the _ hotel _ . 

Unlike the current hotels, Lev frequented now: gold plated everything, designer extremities, a pool room, hot tub room (and a  _ pool-and-hot-tub _ room), built-in spas and minibars where the drinks were just automatically added to your tab (because,  _ duh why fucking wouldn’t they)  _ soft towels and the biggest T.Vs in every room (each room had  _ multiple rooms) _ the fridges came (he cannot stress this enough,  _ came pre-stocked)  _ with the finest cheap yet fancy looking water bottles and also (who can forget) the WiFi was great— god the list  _ never ended!  _ He  _ really  _ could do this all day but alas, he got a bit off track ( _ anyway anyway _ ) unlike the current hotel types Lev frequented now, the first hotel he ever stayed in was a dump. 

It was called the  _ 宿宿 (Hotel-Hotel).  _ It was small, it was hidden between two main streets and when it got dark the lights were so weak and dim that it was completely hidden within the ever-present darkness encasing literally  _ none of the city because it’s fucking Tokyo, city of lights or something! What kind of city gets completely fucking dark? Lev didn’t think there was one, not a major metropolitan one at least, so it really was a big feat to be so small and unknown that in a place—surrounded, by light you’re stuck cornered in the shadows like a D rated sleep paralysis monster.  _

The Hotel-Hotel was a dump and Lev loved it. The only people working at the hotel was a couple of two women, probably married (Lev doesn’t remember much about them past the fact they thought he was  _ really _ cute and far too loud for how quiet he walked) and a _ really  _ nice old woman that handed Lev a banana every morning when he came down to greet them.

The Hotel-Hotel had only 6 rooms, in the entire building for people to actually book and stay in. Lev remembers when they first drove up to the hotel and the parking lot was completely empty, the blaring sounds of crosswalk signs and cars passing by filling his ears and making his head hurt in the best way. He remembers rolling his on the bumpy pavement as he walked from the car to the front doors and stopping at the automated door (he wasn’t  _ amazed  _ per se, but it should be said that the only places with automated doors in his old town were the convenience stores and gas stations around the edges of town and maybe the doctor’s office. The nice big one, not the old, falling apart bobble of a shed also known as a clinic) that opened in front of him. He remembers walking inside and smelling oil and spices, the spicy spices that burn your nose and make your eyes water. He sneezed a moment after the smell hit his nose and felt like his chest was burning up (just a bit). He likes to imagine that it was his own tangible excitement in the air that he smelt but in reality, it was just the old lady who worked there cooking habanero peppers in the lobby.

It was a shitty little place and Lev loved it like it was a second home. 

ᴗ

Lev had no idea why everyone was always on his ass about his face. 

It was a wonderful face, yes. It was also the main reason he was hired and the only reason he’s still got a job. Lev Haiba, in all his simplistic glory, understands this. 

Lev KNEW that his face was that of a wonderful one (he’s been told by many an admirer, bosses, clients, random passerby, weirdos on the internet,  _ weird _ teenagers on the internet, normal teenagers on the internet, lovers, ex’s, a teacher  _ once _ ,  _ a few _ teammates,  _ many _ competitors, his sister _ constantly, _ his aunt more than his sister, doctors, that... one guy who works in the same building as Lev and usually rides the  _ e-LEV-ator _ (It was a joke they made once while chatting off handily. Lev didn’t get it till he did) with him before and after the lunch rush, yeah, him—the cute one with the crooked pointer finger and steely blue eyes, and  _ probably _ his dog and cats with the way they lick at his cheek). All well-shaped and chiseled by the gods and such. His eyes shined like sparkly, beautiful, shiny,  _ expensive  _ emeralds (freshly polished), sitting in the light of a shining summer sun or a particularly strong commercial studio light. His skin was comparable to that of an Asian porcelain doll, white and unblemished by the years of raging hormones and acne he had faced in his adolescence. His complexion was in a way as delicate as the Russian winters he had come to hate (with a burning, HA,  _ passion _ ) in recent years. Both white, as snow is, on occasion; both deadly and freezing anything brave- or maybe  _ foolish _ \- enough to touch it and both paring wonderfully with the natural greens of the outside world during any winter storm.

(It should be said,  _ as all things should be,  _ that Lev didn’t know much of anything about any storms, nor any metaphors to convey storms in comparison, or any likeness to his own self—  _ physical or otherwise.  _ He saw a nature documentary not long before this and because of that, he has been plagued with the thoughts one may match to any well-known thinker…  _ maybe an Aristotle or Dante…  _ for the first time in years, he was thinking of nature and his connection to it outside of pretending he was a cat-human-hybrid creature forced to choose between the human world and the feline world… doing his best as every day it becomes harder and harder to choose. So now he thought he himself was the human storm, biting and cold yet soft and ever-present in the lives of millions around the world, like a blanket or maybe an iPhone- things that had nothing to do with storms in the slightest. Remember everyone, he is a  _ model _ and a once  _ terrible teenage volleyball player _ . He is no poet, he is no writer, he is no thinker. He’s just the guy that makes the public at large want to buy products and look better to resemble him in some way, shape, or form.  _ No more, no less _ ).

Anyway blah blah, Lev was super hot and everyone loved looking at him. He loved attention, they loved giving it— everybody wins. But being a model wasn’t exactly  _ easy _ . 

Lev had to work a lot to get where he was and even more, he has to work a lot to  _ stay where he is!  _ He has to exercise constantly. He has to work out every day, the intensity ranging depending on the day and how he feels, but a workout is a workout. He does yoga and a pseudo-meditation every morning and every night, and these are a must so he can be focused and ready to take on whatever bullshit the world throws at him (without said yoga and meditation he simply can’t function in the ways a  _ top world-class model  _ should). He also has to eat  _ really _ healthy all the time, forever to watch his weight and to keep his skin nice and  _ pretty-ful  _ for the masses. Sure the food was great, he could afford great food so he got it (and made it great too but that wasn’t as fun as buying it) but it was healthy! He got sick of perfect health after a few months without binging the worst food possible for weeks on end. It was a lifestyle, yes. It made him look beautiful-er, yes. But it was boring and he missed being able to just eat whatever whenever because he felt like it. 

Lev (and this was the most annoying part) had a  _ skincare routine.  _

Do  _ not  _ assume that just because he complains about his routine that means he doesn’t enjoy the actual effects and the feeling of clean skin. He does! He loves being clean and showering and all that— but his skin routine was stupidly long. 

Lev woke up and cracked his back, stretched his hands up, and yawned loud enough to wake the dead. He then yawned again and patted around for his phone (he begins to lay back down now, easing his head into the comfortable pillows he bought because fuck yeah he’s spending major bank on the best pillows he can) and scrolls through his work email, personal email, work dm’s for all his socials,  _ personal  _ dm’s for all his socials, the few cute kitty app games he has to keep himself busy and a video or two about explaining to your boss you hate wearing black ties with black suits and black shoes during every single shoot for that stupid perfume company. This is about 39 minutes or so and by the 40th he’s up and heading towards his yoga mat to begin his morning for real. 

So his morning 30-minute yoga session ends and now he meditates for 20 minutes (mindfulness and all that Jazz) and now comes the beast. The skincare routine. 

It all begins with taking off any and all makeup he was unable to take off the night before (assuming he even had a shoot- but then again he always has a shoot). He gently rubs his face of all the sweat and grime, color, and glitter he may be wearing from the night before and blinks awake to see a handsome bastard staring back at him in the mirror. If he wasn’t so tired maybe, maybe, he would smile back. That was a joke, he always smiles back. _ He loves Lev. He is Lev.  _

Next, he brushes his teeth and washes his mouth out with both the mintiest mouthwash he could find under, let’s say... 1000 yen, and then rinses again with some water. It’s the closest feeling to taking cocaine he can get this early in the morning, scratches the itch wonderfully  _ AND  _ safely. Also, he cannot stand the taste of spit and mouthwash mixed together that appears after using the mouthwash. Sure it may defeat the purpose of even using the stuff at all but Lev wasn’t going to be gagging randomly for the next 4 hours because spearmint couldn’t stop stabbing his tongue in the dick (metaphorically). After that, he uses his low P-H cleanser gel (this step is known as  _ double-cleansing).  _ It’s like the first step, but not just wet makeup wipes and water, it’s a special soap too. So special it doesn’t dry up the skin at all! None of the shit he uses does. It’s amazing truly. 

Lev then rubs the double cleanse in once more before washing it out and drying his face with a soft towel (the same idea with the pillows. Lots of money to spend, most of it goes to things feeling good. Soft face towels are a fucking must in his house.  _ Must _ ) and then in the following 30 seconds,  _ yes it must be 30 seconds, _ Lev puts on his toner: used to restore his previously normal and natural balance of P-H (no he does not know what P-H is). God, it's only step two and he’s usually tired by now. On his phone he plays the song ‘ _ Copacabana’  _ and bums along, thinking of Lola and Tony and what could’ve been. Tragic  _ really,  _ but damn if it wasn’t a wonderful dance song. 

Lev then pulls out his personal  _ car-wash-waxing-buffer-machine _ (it had a name but who cares, Lev called it  _ Vibes _ because everything needs a name, it vibrates to clean the skin and also ‘Vibrator’ as a name is already taken). So Lev gets Vibes and begins to exfoliate with a bar of simple soap, no different from his cleanser from what he can tell but his dermatologist made it very clear— they’re different. This (and a few other steps) only happen once-twice every week so his 14+ step process is now only like… 10 or  _ something _ . 

_ It’s great. Yay! Skincare!  _

Lev puts Vibes away and starts the next part, thankful it’s only a twice a week step just like the last so by doing it now he gets more time off tomorrow. Now he puts on a sheet mask of another exfoliation mixture of something or another. He couldn’t tell you what exactly was inside but he could probably tell you why he loved the smell and why he hated the feeling on a slimy thin sheen of liquid… jelly, all over him. 

He lets the sheet mask sit for a few minutes, this is around the time he would go into his kitchen and make something or just simply snack on whatever happened to be sitting in his fridge and wasn’t expired. After eating something and sitting on his phone some more he peels the mask off, throws it away, and walks back to the bathroom doing his best to lose himself in the ‘ _ Bossa Nova Get Ready with Me’  _ playlist he was gifted by an intern or something. It was a great playlist,  _ really _ he should  _ definitely _ say thank you again. But that’s for public Lev. Private, dancing in his underwear Lev was busy putting ‘essences’ on his face (it's just fucking oil), a thin layer to sit for a minute or two as he gets ready for the next steps. 

He then proceeds to use  _ snail mucin _ (that slime snails leave behind everywhere) on his face. Surprisingly, the  _ snail jizz _ (it definitely wasn’t jizz but telling himself it made the whole process funnier than just saying snail sweat or snail ‘ _ mucin’ _ ) was the least upsetting part of this whole process. Sure he laughed when he first read what it was, and yes he was apprehensive about putting it on his skin for a few weeks but once he took the leap and used the stuff he was pleasantly surprised. It was shockingly refreshing compared to the other steps and gave him something to tell people about that got a different reaction than just  _ ‘nodding their head and humming, occasionally asking where he got everything, then asking him for his number or Instagram handle _ .’ He had the aloe scented one. It was nice.

After he puts snail jizz on his face he washes it off and does his best to not fall back asleep and give up on this whole process, this whole  _ life ( _ a life that forces him to work this hard for his skin, of all things), Obviously, his best is just enough because he’s been doing this routine for about a year, nothing compared to the heaven of working and not doing all this for almost 5 years previously but that was beside the point. OKAY! So, after the snail comes the hydrochloric acid. 

_ Just kidding! That was a joke. Ha.  _

In highschool, Lev remembers Kuroo-san saying something or another about the properties of hydrochloric acid and how it was bad for the skin but he was so busy being sad and bitter towards the world and himself that he missed the main points he spoke on. Truthfully that was a very,  _ very _ , dark part of Lev’s life, and as he stands to rub a very safe, very non-face melty acid on his skin he recalls a moment in said dark part that sticks with him to this day. It was nothing more than just a simple interaction between himself and an upperclassman he adored, and yet… it did more for him than most would ever know. But back to the acid. He puts it on. Then some argan oil is rubbed onto his face, some eye creme to keep the eye bags away (in recent years he’s been better about getting 8 hours or more of sleep. As a teenager his sister used to bust into his room at random hours of the night to make sure he was asleep, and 9 times out of 10 he wasn’t because ‘I swear it was 7 pm, I didn’t think it was past that’ when in actuality it was 1 am and he had school in 5 hours). He finishes up the hellish process by putting the final nail in the coffin— sunscreen. 

He’s done. It’s over. The longest process is over and he doesn’t have to recreate it till Thursday (but he won’t do it again until Monday). He runs his fingers through his hair and for a moment misses when it was long (yes he had long hair, it was beautiful and the best decision he ever made. Some people cut their hair to prove change but Lev wanted nothing more than to grow it out, so he did. Unfortunately, his most recent job required he cut his hair, and when he saw the paycheck, who was he to say no?). 

Lev misses a lot of things. 

ᴗ

The first thing Lev did as a second year in Nekoma High was leave the official boy’s volleyball team. 

As he walked up to the teacher’s office, he didn’t think of the club. He didn’t worry about the what if’s of leaving, nor the legacy he was stepping away from. He didn’t linger on the narrative he was writing himself out of (with a simple signature he was gone, out of the club and out of its vice-like grip) nor did he trouble himself with the schematics of his decision on the wider whole of the team. He instead thought about the Nekoma High garden club and their well crept greenhouse overflowing with vines and bushes but in the most tasteful way; the gardening tools, sturdy but worn from years of use; the disconnected path made from the student’s own footprints, a man-made path separate from those of the cement. 

Lev thought of Kai and the scent of fresh rain, the feeling of hot tears running down his face, and the sounds of a song he didn’t yet know playing on the radio. 

( _ After asking Kai, he is keen to learn it was Copacabana) _

-

Lev doesn’t hold any resentment towards anyone who was on the team at the same time as him. Lev can’t blame some teenage boys for being a bit rougher than they should have been, a bit meaner than they had to be, a little brasher than was absolutely necessary. He can't -as a 24-year-old man with a stable life, supporting family and friends, prospering career and more money he can feasibly use any time soon- feel much more than a surface Level annoyance at what he endured at worst and a sense of hilarity at best. He can’t feel much of anything for any of it anymore. He’s too happy to remember that pain in all it's excruciating detail now.

But the 15-year-old Lev with a broken household, less than understanding peers, lack of friends as a whole, jobless, poor-ass ‘ _ I can’t even afford snacks at the family mart sometimes _ ’—definitely did.

To say Lev was unhappy in the Nekoma Boy’s Volleyball Team would be a major understatement. Lev was unhappy when he sat in class and felt the bruises on his sides ache after an especially grueling day of practice (consisting of a pisser Yaku than usual and a pumped-up Kuroo insisting on all the floor dive drills he could fit into a 5 hour period). The tender skin sending a jolt of pain down his spine at any touch, purpling and swollen for the following days to come. Lev was unhappy when he heard the final school bell for the day knowing that he had practice, knowing he has to go and get yelled at for the next few hours, knowing that his hands were going to hurt and his legs were going to ache and his head was going to burst open with all the pain coming from every single angle. Lev was unhappy when he saw the way the other team members looked at him (annoyed by him). Lev was unhappy. That was just what he was for a chunk of his high school years. But the team wasn’t just unhappiness. It was hell.

During his time on the team, Lev was mentored (attacked, hurt by, bullied whatever word fit the sentence that conveyed ‘ _ fucking tortured _ ’) by mainly Yaku, sometimes Kenma and never Kuroo. They each ruined the volleyball experience for him but in different ways. 

Yaku-san kicked him. A lot. Lev would be a liar if he said he enjoyed being kicked (and punched and attacked constantly) and Lev was never a convincing liar. Yaku got mad easily, his temper as short and ugly as he was, and Lev was a naturally annoying person (a terrible combination yes, but It wasn’t like Lev  _ tried _ to annoy Yaku every time they spoke. He stopped doing that after the first time Yaku hit him on the head) so their interactions usually ended in Lev feeling some sort of pain or crying.

(Lev wasn’t ashamed to admit he was an easy crier, BUT, one has to ask— was Lev the weak, over-emotional child, or  _ was he just a normal guy who cried out when he felt pain _ ? Those are the questions he asked himself constantly during his half-a-year on the volleyball team. Was he a bitch or  _ was everyone else for attacking him in the first place _ ? Was he a crybaby or  _ was everyone else just unflinching to pain _ ? Was Lev the odd man out or was… or…mmm... no. No, he definitely was that. That was made  _ very _ clear)

_ “Yaku-San that hurts!” _

_ They were practicing, of course, they were, and Yaku hit Lev on the head. Now, let it be known Yaku’s hits and kicks—always hurt. Always. It was to the point that Lev didn’t know where the ache from actually practicing began and the pain from being hit ended. Today wasn’t much different than any other, they still hit the ball over the net, Fukunaga still made offhand comments that disrupted practice as a whole, Yaku still hit Lev. It was normal. (The fact that Lev being hit was ‘normal’ was something in of itself) _

_ Lev had been on the floor, breathing a bit too long (was he taking a moment to rest? Yes. Should he have asked first? Sure whatever. Did he deserve to be hit on the head? Not if you asked Lev) and Yaku hit him. On the head.  _

_ They didn’t have any sort of rules or guidelines for their relationship of ‘Yaku beating Lev senseless till he did it right’ but being hit on the head was definitely not something they agreed upon. So Lev said that. _

_ “Yaku-san! Fuck! That— hurt.” _

_ “Everything hurts Lev! That’s the only way to get better! Pain means progress!” _

_ “I never want to progress if this is what gets me there!” _

_ “Then you don’t deserve to play on the court with people practicing to be the best they can be! Suck it up and do the drills again.”  _

_ Yaku stared down at him and probably glared, Lev didn’t know he was trying not to cry because, fuck—that hurt. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was just the fact he didn’t want to be there anymore, but Lev stood (shakily) and walked out of the gym.  _

_ He wandered over to the closest vending machine and sat down on a bench near it. His head was throbbing and he couldn’t do a thing.  _

_ (For once he wished someone would say something, just a small comment. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. Yaku didn’t hit anyone the way he hit Lev. He didn’t bark at the other first years like Lev. He didn’t treat them like Lev at all. Sure Lev was loud and annoying and probably deserved it- why else would he be hit- but even this felt excessive) _

_ His mind kept running backward and forwards jumbling together as he tried to think anything past ‘it hurts’. _

_ He remembers telling Kuroo about the way Yaku treated him once in the beginning, and in response, he got a soft smile and an “it’s just his way… he’s a believer in tough love”. That was all nice and good, tough love is a form of love sure but Lev neither responded to tough love nor did he classify constant hitting as tough love. His sister hiding his charger past a certain time so he couldn’t play on his D.S was tough love. What Yaku did was just mean. It was mean and sucked and Lev didn’t even want to play this stupid fucking sport anymore because of how much it hurt.  _

_ Yaku was so mean to nobody but Lev and no one seemed to care or notice. Lev didn’t know which one upset him more.  _

_ He walks back inside and gets back to work, no random breaks this time, and doesn’t mention the hitting or how his head hurts. He thinks Kai looked at him, probably with pity or something, but he doesn’t know. He was too busy making progress. _

Kenma-san made him feel like he was so incompetent that  _ he didn’t deserve _ to be practiced with or that  _ he wasn’t worth _ the time it would take to actually help him (a waste of Kenma Kozume’s  _ precious, precious _ time- something so important to him that he,  _ the official team setter _ , was unable to even give the newest member a few sets, instead choosing to do fuck all with his time. Lev doesn’t know what he did, he was far too busy feeling like his lungs were about to drop out of his rib cage at a moment's notice or maybe just the next time Yaku so much as blinked in his direction).

_ Kenma looked Lev in the eyes and told him he would never be half as good as Shouyou. _

_ He wasn’t even close now. The one thing he had over him, literally, was useless on someone with so little skill and understanding of the game. Lev was more useful on the bench then he was on the court because at least on the bench he wasn’t blocking the view of the net for the rest of their team. Lev, for all his yelling and big-talk about how he was ‘the ace’, he had nothing to prove for it. He could barely hit the ball on a good day. Kenma says “it’s hard to say you have potential especially when it takes this much work to find it. There’s a diamond in the rough and then there are bricks painted gold.” He says all of this while texting on his phone, probably to Hinata, paying no mind to the boy standing above him looking down, down, down.  _

_ Lev just kind of blinked and went to the bathroom after that. He needed to pee beforehand but now he just felt a bit sick.  _

_ He left practice early that day.  _

Kuroo-san just… didn’t do much of anything other than confusing Lev and make him feel even more useless than the other two combined. 

Kuroo, unlike the other two, never actively hurt his feelings. He just gave back-handed compliments. Back-handed words of encouragement. Back-handed notes or advice. With Kuroo it was never just ‘ _ good job Lev’.  _ There was no  _ “you’re getting better Lev!” _ or “ _ you’re adding to the team! Keep going! _ ”. What Lev got were “ _ eh… could be worse _ ” and “ _ Well… you’re playing at least!”.  _

It hurt. A lot. 

_ The first years were always doing grunt work at the end of the day. Put the nets down, clean up the floors, put the balls away, make sure the poles get put back correctly (the usual stuff). This wasn’t unusual to any club, it only made sense that the newest would do the most physical labor, either as a way of training or just because they’re that low on the totem pole, it didn’t matter. This is just how it was and no one really minded. So Lev took shit down. No big deal. Him, Inuoka, Shibayama, and Teshirou all went around the gym cooling off and cleaning up. Inuoka was dumping out the water that was unused that day, Teshirou was gathering all the balls (even the ones that went to fuck-all-land in the gym, also known as out-fucking-side) and Shibayama and Lev were putting the nets and poles away for the night. The second years usually left a bit earlier than the first years, and the third years left earlier than the second years and first years combined (Lev hadn’t been there long so he just assumed they trusted the team). Usually, the third years left and didn’t come back.  _

_ Today they came back. _

_ Kuroo and Kai walked inside, a yelling Yaku not far behind, with some Family Mart bags in their hands. Lev was alone finishing up his task (Shibayama had helped plenty so Lev just took over for the last bit) and clearly remembers looking from where he was tying the net together and then hearing the sound of a light “hey guys” being yelled into the open air. All sound inside the gym echoed, so even from his place in the back of the storage closet he could hear the joyful ‘thank you’s’ of Inuoka and Shibayama (probably the polite nodding of Teshirou… hand to god that boy never said a word). Lev, curious, walks out into the gym and is greeted with Kuroo and Kai handing out hot, store-bought meat buns to each member of the club.  _

_ “Pork for Inuoka-kun and Shibayama-kun, beef for Teshirou-kun and Yakkun, chicken for Tora-kun, curry for me, Kai and Kenma and weird fucking pizza mix for Fukunaga-kun.” _

_ Lev walked forward to the group and stared down at all their snacks. He noticed the bags they had were now empty, save for some corn flavored chips Yaku loved eating (he never shared with Lev it was heartbreaking).  _

_ Shibayama, ever the helper, counts aloud.  _

_ “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9… you're missing one Senpai.” _

_ Lev blinked and Kuroo looked up from his own snack to see him standing there.  _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “Lev. He’s 10.” _

_ (His jersey said 11 actually but anyway—) _

_ “Oh.” _

_ (Lev wouldn’t say this was the first time he felt left out— because it wasn’t) _

_ Kai frowns a bit and looks over at Kuroo, as much looking as a guy that never seemed to open his eyes could, and motions to Lev a bit. Kuroo blinks and smiles, sheepishly, laughing a bit. _

_ “Oh, I’m sorry Lev! I forgot to get you one! It’s my bad man. If you want you can have mine though, seriously I’m just an idiot.” _

_ The group laughs, Kenma speaking up from his own bun to call Kuroo and idiot, Yaku saying something about how Lev was going to run out of fuel for his giant body now (something something his pea-sized brain would die first), Tora telling Kuroo to go take more math classes and the first years choosing to just focus on their own buns. Lev watches as Kuroo holds the bun out and Lev thinks of all the times he heard Kuroo complain about being hungry as they were settling down for the night. It wasn’t Lev’s place to take his snack, especially when Kuroo was so hungry he couldn’t count right (ignore the fact he remembered everyone’s orders without issue and even got extra snacks for the walk home if the crumbs on his face said anything) so Lev just shook his head. _

_ “It’s okay Kuroo-san. Enjoy your snack!” _

_ Kuroo smiles and everyone laughs more because of course, they do (it's very funny how the loud idiot of the group is so polite). Kuroo digs into his food and the gym smells like meat and pizza. As they’re getting dressed Kai offers to walk him to the store and Lev, in a moment of weakness, considers it. _

_ “No, it’s fine Kai-san. It’s just one meat bun. I’m fine.” _

_ Kai nods and goes back to putting his shirt on. The night is over and Lev is the first one out of the club room, the first one down the street and on the train home.  _

Maybe it was the fact that Kuroo himself asked Lev to join that made everything he did hurt more.

(“ _ You would be such an asset to the team! You’re so tall and seem strong as hell! I have no doubt you’ll be a wonderful addition to the team! You’ve never played? That's fine. It's all about passion anyway, you never know anything until you do, so truthfully you might as well get started now right? Exactly. Follow me”) _

Lev knows he’s tall. He knows it, the world knows it. He shoves it in people’s faces constantly and loves people talking about his height. Cute girls in the hall giggling as he passed, cute boys in the gym taking a double-take when he walked in… he loved it. 

But being called ‘Skyscraper’, ‘Behemoth’, ‘Tin-Headed Titan’, ‘Titan’ and ‘Tall ass’ by Yaku every day didn’t feel great. Sure, again, he loved his height. 

But being belittled (ha) constantly didn’t feel good.

_ “You call me short Lev. I don’t enjoy that!” _

_ “I don’t call you short to upset you Yaku-san… and I don’t call you mean nicknames either!” _

_ “That’s just because you’re too dense to think of some.” _

_ “No, I’m not!” _

_ “I’m sure. Either way, stop calling me short and I’ll stop calling you a giant skyscraper of a human being.” _

_ “But I really don’t mean to hurt your feelings Yaku-san! It’s just the truth!” _

_ “And mine isn’t? You’re fucking massive.” _

_ This is around the time Kuroo would come in and laugh and say Lev was bigger than the entire gym or something. He and Yaku would then get into a big laughing match about what to compare Lev to, and he would laugh along.  _

_ Lev would laugh along.  _

_ (He never really got the joke though) _

-

Lev is allergic to latex. It’s small. It’s an allergy that’s surprisingly dangerous but luckily Lev has a milder case that only results in itchy skin and blotchy redness for the next few hours after he comes into contact with the latex. At worst he could end up in the hospital due to overexposure but he’s good about not doing that. 

His allergy is the delayed reaction sort. He touches the latex and then doesn’t have any reaction until 15 minutes later. It sucks but he doesn’t mind much. 

_ Nekoma got new balls. _

_ Lev cannot use them.  _

_ Lev attempted using them and 20 minutes into receiving practice he was sent to the nurse because he looked and acted like he was dying.  _

_ “I have a latex allergy,” Lev says to Kuroo and the coaches. _

_ “We just bought the balls.” Says Nekomata (and the other guy Lev can’t remember). Kuroo looks upset. _

_ “I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t practice with those balls. I’m sorry.” Lev says. His hands are behind his back and he picks at his own nails. His pinkie has a hangnail, and it hurts. He picks at it. _

_ “Can we just separate the balls? Non-latex in one bin, latex in the other?” The coach says. The unknown one. Kuroo seems upset. _

_ “Thank you for telling us, Lev.” Nekomata says. Kuroo is upset. He smiles and nods and leaves the room.  _

_ The balls are put into storage, and the old ones come back out. Yaku makes a big fuss, Tora too, and Kuroo just says “it’s for safety” and that’s that. The whole team is on about it for the next week. The sound of their well-worn balls just reminding them of what they’re missing.  _

_ Lev looks at the storage closet. His fingers hurt.  _

Inuoka was cool. Shibayama and Teshirou (if he could remember the guy) were cool too. They didn’t really get it though.

_ “Lev you’re just overreacting.” _

_ “Inuoka you must really be a dog because you can’t see for shit.” _

_ Inuoka laughs and clutches his heart in mock hurt. Shibayama is chuckling into his bento and Teshirou is there. _

_ “Ouch. Also, dogs can see very well!” _

_ “Well, then you’re fucking blind. You’d have to be to somehow miss the way they treat me.” _

_ Shibayama pops a cherry tomato into his mouth. “Lev they’re hard on all of us! You aren’t any different.” _

_ “But I- am- different.” _

_ “Oh here we go-” someone says quietly, probably Teshirou since Shibayama and Inuoka are staring right at Lev and their mouths haven’t moved.  _

_ “They don’t- Yaku doesn’t hit you like he does me! And Kuroo always brings you snacks and says nice things, and Kenma doesn’t, he… he isn’t all pissed off 24/7 with you three.” _

_ They’re all just staring at him.  _

_ Lev, he knows he isn’t the brightest. He knows that. He also knows he isn’t the best with speaking (more so articulating his thoughts). He knows this. So he knows that look on their faces. The point didn’t get across, the translation was too unfaithful to the original Lev idea. Too simple.  _

_ “The snacks? That’s what you’re upset about? I’ll get you some snacks!” Inuoka barks. Because he’s a dog. And an idiot.  _

_ “Yaku-san hit all of us when we first joined! You just weren’t there to see it Lev! It’s the right of passage!” Shibayama laughs out. There’s tomato skin stuck in his teeth.  _

_ “Kenma likes us.” Teshirou says. Like he didn’t hear a word Lev said. (Asshole. At least people know who Lev is) _

_ Lev doesn’t get it. Truly. If they went through the exact same shit he did, why (and this was the kicker), why did they like the upperclassmen in the first place? Hell, Lev has only been here about two, maybe three months and he can’t fucking stand Yaku or Kuroo. Kenma makes him so upset he doesn’t really have the words to explain how he feels. They all upset him.  _

_ Lev didn’t know everything ever (very surprising yes, no one saw that coming in truth), and as such he didn’t know how everyone reacted to every situation. But he did know that most people were pretty equal in their reaction to being treated badly. They leave. Or do something that isn’t becoming friends with the assholes hurting them. Lev wouldn’t be friends with the guys that make him cry at least once a week. He wouldn’t be friends with the guys that make him feel stupid and useless on the team he didn’t even want to be on. He wouldn’t be friends with the guys who treat him like shit just over a dumb club.  _

_ “When you love doing something you deal with the pain Lev.” Probably Teshirou again. Fucker.  _

_ “Well, I don’t ‘love’ volleyball.” _

_ Shibayama changed the topic of conversation after that.  _

_ - _

Lev had a friend in high school named Mihara. 

Mihara was  _ probably _ the only thing keeping Lev sane. 

Mihara and Lev never really hung out, he was always at volleyball practice and Mihara was at baseball practice. They had little in common. But Mihara wasn’t in the volleyball club. That alone was enough for Lev. 

So when Mihara asked him out one day to go see a movie, a movie that was showing  _ during practice  _ Lev didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I don’t know if you know Tsukimura-kun but he and I go way back and for his birthday we were going to go see the new Spider-Man movie that just came out, do you like spider-man?”

Mihara rambled a lot and smiled like he knew he couldn’t stay on topic. Lev looked down at him (he was holding his knees trying to catch his breath. Lev wasn’t even walking fast, he was just, naturally, making longer strides than Mr. 5 foot 8 over here. He looked excited, if not very winded also. His hair was falling out of its loose ponytail and Lev thought the look suited him). 

“I do.”

“Oh good-”

“Who doesn’t like spider-man? Everyone likes spider-man. It’s fucking spider-man Mihara.”

He laughs and stands up. He’s smiling and Lev probably isn’t but that’s just because it’s almost time to go to practice and god knows that’ll take all his energy (no use wasting it on pleasantries) so he just looks at him. 

“Okay, yes. You’re right, as always Lev, stupid question on my part.” Lev hums.

“Can you get to the point Mihara-kun? My coach will have my ass if I’m late. Again.”

Mihara laughs, again. He laughs a lot. He’s a very bubbly person. Lev likes to think he was bubbly too. Crazy what a few months will do. 

“Yeah, of course. Uh- long story short, I have two tickets for this movie, you like spider-man, you’re my friend, so I ask you, Lev, if you wanna go see this movie with me. Now.”

“Now?”

“Now. It starts in an hour. It’s playing at the theater on Tatsu street.”

“I don’t have the money for a movie date at the moments Mihara-”

Mihara coughs a bit. Lev can’t tell if his face is red or if he’s just still tired from running. He doesn’t care much either way. 

“Nah it’s all my treat. Any snacks and we can even get dinner! A friend of a friend owns this great hole in the wall place. You’ll love it.”

_ “You’ll pay?” _

_ “I’ll pay.” _

Skipping practice was always frowned upon. If he skipped he would just be proving Kenma right, just be asking for another roundhouse kick to the center of his back from a pissed off Yaku, just proving Kuroo right in his constant miscounting. He really shouldn’t go.

But then again, going to practice would probably just do the same thing. Did it really matter what he did? Not like he could be kicked off the team for one missed day (he wasn’t that lucky).

“Let me call my sister.”

-

So Lev went out. He skipped and had the best night ever. The movie was whatever and the popcorn was expensive but he didn’t even care because for the first time in who knows how long, Lev was happy. Sure the bruises on his side still served as a cruel reminder of what he was going back to but the smile on his face and new voice in his ear distracted him from the pain. Mihara was now. Mihara was the outside world separate from volleyball and practice and pain. 

At some point, Lev started crying. He didn’t know what for, probably because the stake they were eating was marinated in pineapple and the stupid flavors were so bad they were delicious and Lev was losing his mind, or maybe it was the fact that Lev (for the first time in forever) was happy and guilt-free. He was so happy and yet he knew that with every passing moment he was closer to the next day, and the next day meant more practice. More volleyball. 

“Mihara- I, I can’t do this anymore.”

“The stake? I mean it’s a bit weird but I really like it…”

“No, not the fucking stake, the stake is very good! I mean the volleyball team. It… it isn’t even fun. It’s just me feeling bad every day and I don’t think even the fun of being on the court is worth it anymore.” 

Lev’s eyes were wet and his plate and tears on it. He hated that Mihara has to see him like this (his whole cool reputation as the scary tall guy was ruined now) but alas, that’s what happens when one is in pain, or something.

“Then quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. The season is over right? Quit the team tomorrow and stop putting yourself through pain. It’s just a club. It isn’t worth all this … this mental anguish you’re going through.”

_ Quit?  _ Lev didn’t think of that. 

Well, he did. Of course he did. But that was just proving them all right. That sounded worse than just dealing with the pain. That sounded worse than anything really. 

He supposed he said that out loud if Mihara’s face was any indication.

“Even if this was ‘ _ proving them right’,  _ I can’t say in good faith that you subjecting yourself to this is worth it. Just… you’re allowed to be happy Lev. Whether they meant it or not, they’ve hurt you past the point of it being worth staying. You deserve to be happy Lev.”

_ You deserve to be happy Lev.  _

_ (It should be noted Lev probably fell in love with Mihara that night, and even though that was his first love and very impactful to where he is now, it is a different story for a different day)  _

_ - _

Lev remembers that it was drizzling on the first morning of the final week of school. The sky was gray and the air was cold. He doesn’t know why or how the air was cold right before summer, nor did he know why it was raining, but it was. Maybe it was a sign of his bad decision. 

Maybe it was just the weather.

He remembers walking to the student garden. The plants were fully grown and picked off all their vegetables and flowers. He was surrounded by green in a school known for its red. He felt tranquil in his fear, a calm before the storm. The grass was thick enough to be felt from outside his pants.

Lev didn’t know this but Kai was the president of the gardening club. Lev didn’t know how he was able to do it all so effortlessly, but then again, this was Kai. 

The room wasn’t important. Nor were the smells and feelings inside it. A song was being played and the soft mist of rain was heard from the inside. But none of that mattered. What mattered was what was said.

“Lev?”

“Kai-san.”

“What’s up? I’ve never seen you in this area of the school before.”

“I was looking for you. I need to talk to you.”

Kai was holding a potted plant. He stared at Lev, almost as saying “keep going”, so Lev did.

“I...I want to quit the volleyball team.”

Kai didn’t seem surprised. Lev didn’t know how to take that.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay Lev.”

“That was easy.”

“It’s clear you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“I—”

“ _ I’m sorry _ . For how you were treated. For the things we said and did. I’m sorry.”

He looks down at the plant, and then up towards Lev again.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you. It won’t change what happened but… I hope it can take the edge off.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad. Not at you. You did nothing wrong Lev.”

Lev felt the water in his eye before he saw the blurred Kai staring back at him. 

“You tried Lev. You tried and that’s all we could ask of you.

Lev was fully crying now, sobbing more accurately, and the only one there was Kai. Lev cried and cried, his face red and blotchy from the cold and the rain, and just like the plants sitting on the shelves, Lev could do little more than just exist within the greenhouse. He probably should’ve felt stupid for crying so genuinely for such a stupid reason, for breaking down in front of Kai like a child, but Lev was too busy letting go to feel much else than a sense of relief as if all his worries were off his shoulders.

“Kai-san.”

“Yes, Lev?”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

“Of course.”

ᴗ

Lev had long hair for a long time. The moment he got out of the volleyball club he decided he was going to make a real change. A real change consisting of being nicer to himself and trying new things less. 

Being nicer qualified as not worrying about his hair as much. 

A week turned into a month and a month turned into two. Two turned to four and suddenly school was back and Lev had enough hair that he could officially borrow his sister’s cute heart hair clips to keep strands out of his eyes. 

It wasn’t unusual for a student to look over and see Lev sitting at his desk, idly playing with a lock or two, twisting it around his finger or pushing it behind his ear. For such an energetic, jittery person, it made sense. Also, it was cute. Chewing on mechanical pencils and clicking his pen was okay, but wearing a cute strawberry hair clip and then pushing the hair out of your eyes, just to play with it  _ more _ instead of doing your work? That was adorable. So cute in fact Lev’s popularity jumped exponentially— just because he was cuter. 

So of course he kept the hair.

After years of having it in all types of styles and lengths, Lev can say with certainty that his current 24-year-old self loved the right above the shoulders look most. It was enough to be considered long, but it wasn’t  _ so long  _ that he had to spend 20 minutes in the shower. No, it was perfect. It went with everything too. 

A cute summer blouse and some banana shorts? Pop a cute sun hat on and some shades and he was perfect. Maybe the perfect swimsuit? Put his hair up in a simple ponytail and make a splash! 

Life was his to own and enjoy and damn it, he was going to enjoy it. More than anything (and maybe this was what was stopping Lev from having the best adolescence possible) Lev was just trying to enjoy himself now. Was he doing things backward? Definitely. Who chooses to enjoy their life once they’re paying taxes and capable of being arrested for life? People with issues. 

That’s who.

And that’s exactly what Lev was! He had issues and that was okay!  _ Lev was a dick. _ At the best of times and the worst of times he was an asshole who didn’t always know what lines were okay to cross and what weren’t (he never looked down in the first place, choosing instead to just walk however he saw fit, other’s boundaries be damned) and that wasn’t something non-dickish people did. Lev knew this about himself. 

He knew he was too honest and blunt, he knew he could and did hurt others’ feelings with his words (or lack thereof) and he knew that his actions had far-reaching consequences he could never see coming. He wasn’t an oblivious teenager anymore. He knew things. 

So he tried to better himself (while staying true to the original Lev everyone knew and loved so much). The first step is that of growing out his hair and learning to actually love himself.

(Not make empty declarations of self-love in front of others, or hope that praise would fill the ever-growing hole in his heart drilled into him from a shitty high school experience) 

He grew up in a family of long-haired people, a family of strong women who loved themselves and him. He started off on the right track and … somewhere, he got lost.

(That was a dark dark period. The TLDR; was touched on previously though and unless this is to become a shitty dramatic biography, Lev kept his mouth shut)

He did shitty things to himself (paying 50,000 yen for a pillow) and shitty things to others (saying that someone’s self-worth was only as good as their ability to help themselves) but he knew now that wasn’t right.

( _ Yes this does tie back into the hair thing just, shut up keep going)  _

So yes. Lev loved his hair and he loved himself and he loved that he was getting better. 

He was always getting better. 

ᴗ

Anyway, so the hotel sucked.

It was old and shitty and a second home blah blah blah. 

(Been there done that, got off-hand but now Lev got some water and took a nap and called his boyfriend. He’s back and refreshed and totally ready to talk about the original topic again) 

But these  _ new hotels?  _ God. Fuck.  _ Talk about nice as hell. _

Lev loved the carpets. No matter where he went; no matter what he saw or did; he always came home to those rich people, soft-in-the-shitty-way carpets. He always came back to the scratching on the bottom of his toes, the soles of his feet rubbed just right almost as if a bed of nails was under him (a wonderful bed mind you but a bed of nails no less). The pain of stubbing his toe on the bottom of beds felt different than inside a hotel. Inside a hotel, especially a nice one, Lev felt like it was almost a gift to be a dumbass and hurt himself. He paid  _ good  _ money to be here, he might as well leave with a hangnail or something to show proof of purchase (records and receipts mean so little nowadays, anything on earth can be faked but Lev, through hard trials and tribulations called ‘getting caught with hickies’, has learned that physical marks are wonderful ways to prove a point). 

The only thing he loved more than the carpets were the bathrooms. God. Bathrooms.

2 words.

_ Complimentary soap.  _

Lev wasn’t ever going to judge someone for their financial situation (he wasn’t born rich as tiger shit) but god, he sure did plan to die that way. Especially if it means he can get all the complimentary soap he wants. After years of traveling Lev just, he just  _ doesn’t bring soap to hotels anymore!  _ There was quite literally no real need anymore! He knew that he would walk into his room, put his bags down, smell that wonderful freshly cleaned (a few hours ago probably) room air, with lemony cleanness filling his whole body, walk into the bathroom and see everything he needed. 

The soap— it smelt good too. It was always so good. One time he went to a hotel with  _ lemon-citrus-mint-breeze  _ (whatever the fuck that meant) and he loved it. He wore it (of course he did it was  _ there)  _ and that night after the shoot he even got lucky! 

(Was it fair to call it lucky? Lev was beautiful and funny and sweet and mean but mostly sweet—he could have anyone he wants if he tried enough. But in his mind he liked to imagine the scent of his mass-produced hotel  _ complimentary soap _ is what really sealed the deal, turning a simple flirting session into something more, something more physical, something so life-changing Lev forgot about it 3 days later)

Then the beds. The beds were great. He liked the sheets. Hard and harder to pull out. Good beds.

The  _ LIGHTS.  _ The lights within hotel rooms were truly something Lev couldn’t wrap his head around. The lights always had a charger attached to them, they always filled the room with the perfect amount of light (leaving it just a little dark but mostly bright. Just  _ perfect  _ for sitting on one’s phone while scrolling on twitter waiting to see something bad enough to be worthy of turning his phone off for the night) and give the whole room a feeling of mystery… of danger… of ‘ _ I paid a shit load, well actually my agency did but tomato-tomahto, of money for this room so I better feel some kind of magic, not a safe magic per se but magic! Something. Something tangible. Something I can touch and smell and see… not taste. That’s insanity.’  _

_ Lev loves Lev.  _

Lev loved all hotels.

He loved being a model.

He loved being alive and he loved the song Copacabana. 

He loved his hair and his smile, his family and friends, his shitty past and shitter outlook on life as a teen that eventually changed into something far brighter. 

He loves cats and cute people who think he’s cute. He loves sitting in his hotel and thinking like this, staring at the ceiling so fucking happy he’s able to experience this. 

He’s so fucking happy he isn’t playing volleyball.

**Author's Note:**

> ;) SAD enough for u? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? never ask me for angst again  
> Pepsi Nation we won. I won. I am so proud and happy with this so just, comment something nice heheh
> 
> I FUCKING CALLED IT WOOOOO!!!
> 
> you guys know the deal, comment your thoughts, praise me insistently, go on twitter and yell at me to be productive. It really means a lot when you do!
> 
> //Twt//@Burnttoastwbttr

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Travel Sized Toothbrushes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287515) by [Pepsi (Pepsiiii)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/pseuds/Pepsi)




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